


Catch Fire

by TheSightlessSniper



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Harvey is weirdly artistic, M/M, Mike has lost everything in a fire, OOC, Out of Character, mentions of a fire, season 2 divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 10:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSightlessSniper/pseuds/TheSightlessSniper
Summary: "The one thing that sends him crashing to the floor, tears seeping down his blotchy cheeks, is the burned remains of that one thing that he still had that reminded him of her. The frame had half-survived, but the panda under the cracked glass is completely gone, not an inch recognisable. His grandmother’s panda picture is gone, and there’s nothing he can do to bring it back."Mike loses everything in a fire in his apartment. Of course, Harvey lets him sleep on his couch.





	Catch Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a weird emotional state recently. It's been kind of all or nothing, and I thought the advent of the new year would actually make things worse. The prospect of 12 months to fill with things that I can't necessarily afford to do, or I do only to find meaning or simply to get by, was daunting, and I spent much of between the 26th and 31st of December crying myself to sleep and feeling like I have no uses or skills.
> 
> But...in recent weeks, I've also had a couple friends screaming at me that I need to stop being hard on myself, and being relentlessly encouraging to me, so I'm trying to channel that feeling into something more than pitying myself, and keep trying.
> 
> ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I think it's safe to say that my two main cheerleaders know exactly who they are! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Everything is destroyed in it.

The first thing Mike thinks of after the fire in the apartment next door burns through the wall and cremates everything in he owns in its blaze isn’t his camera, full of a roll of film filled with snaps of the city he had yet to develop. It’s not the shitty flea-market sheets he hasn’t replaced out of not having the time to go anywhere other than work (and occasionally Harvey’s for a scotch and to complain about work). It’s not the suits and skinny-ties that Harvey has been begging him to replace with something custom-made and fitted and wide-tied, although he imagines that Harvey will be happy for the excuse to send him to Rene.

The one thing that sends him crashing to the floor, tears seeping down his blotchy cheeks, is the burned remains of that one thing that he still had that reminded him of her. The frame had half-survived, but the panda under the cracked glass is completely gone, not an inch recognisable. His grandmother’s panda picture is gone, and there’s nothing he can do to bring it back.

He doesn’t mean to lash out at Rachel when she says they can buy a new one—he’d never explained the significance of it to her in detail—and she takes it in stride. But it comes to no surprise when their relationship dissolves; she deserves better than what he can give her anyway.

Even though it’s somewhere to stay, Mike still can’t think about the place that he bought for Grammy. He’s completely forgotten it exists, too wrapped up in the pain of losing it all.

He’s rifling through a newspaper, searching for apartments available at a moment’s notice, when something metallic is placed on top of an ad for a studio that costs double what he was paying before. Mike follows the arm up to Harvey’s shoulder. ‘What’s this?’

‘There is no way you are staying in a shitty studio apartment.’

‘I’ve got no choice.’

‘Look at the ad again.’

Blinking back down, he picks up the key. It’s brand new, and something tells him Harvey went to extra effort with this key; instead of the standard silvery metal, it’s metallic blue, iridescent, and delightful in a tasteless kind of way he knew he’d appreciate. He looks it over. ‘You’re actually going to let me stay at your place?’

Harvey rounds his desk, sitting at the other side and closing the newspaper. ‘I have a couch that should be good enough for you to stay on while you get back on your feet. That being said, if the puppy would prefer a little doghouse out on the terrace, I’m sure I can get one big enough to house you and your one remaining atrocious suit.’

With nothing left of his belongings to move, when he finishes work that evening, Mike heads straight to Harvey’s to settle in.

 

Instead of cooking, Mike finds himself being bundled into a cab and driven across town to a place he’s never heard of.

‘Blackout’ doesn’t look like much on the outside, but it’s something special on the inside; it’s a diner, styled like an old movie theatre, with deep red curtains in every window, plush velvet booth seats and cherrywood tables inset into little alcoves with their own little screens that seem to be playing old movies. It looks nothing like one of Harvey’s usual favourite haunts until he realises that for once, Harvey is in as casual clothing as himself—jeans, plain grey t-shirt, boots instead of his work shoes—and is striking up a conversation with one of the young waitresses.

At first he wonders whether Harvey has brought him to find some kind of date for the night, so he can take some barely-legal girl home for the night. But then—

‘How’s class?’

The girl swipes curly hair away from her face, grimacing. ‘Ugh, math sucks. But I got a ninety-two percent on my last Biology test, so if I do well in the next one, they might let me take some more advanced classes next semester.’

‘Nice work, kiddo. Just remember though, if you ever change your path from biologist to lawyer—‘

‘Harvey, the day I become a lawyer is the day I marry a dude,’ she grins, writing something down on her notepad. ‘I presume usual for you, and what would your boyfriend like?’

Mike splutters, speechless. But the question doesn’t phase Harvey. ‘Get him a menu, Isoken. He’s a virgin.’

When the waitress disappears, Mike leans across the table. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘That’s Isoken. She’s the daughter of Marcel, the guy who runs this place.’

‘How often do you come here?’

‘Often enough. But I’ve known Marcel since he was one of Jessica’s pro-bono clients.’

Mike shakes his head. ‘And here I am thinking you only know the best places to get a scotch.’

He forgets completely that Isoken called him Harvey’s boyfriend.

Isoken brings him a menu, and he picks a few different things to try before flicking through an app Harvey has him download. By the time their food arrives, he and Harvey are sat with Twelve Angry Men playing on the screen set into the wall next to them, and sipping on what may be the best ice-cream float he’s ever tasted (laced with what is probably a significant quantity of Irish cream).

They eat companionably, watch the movie together over more drinks, and when they get back to Harvey’s condo and he settles down for the night, he sleeps easy.

 

Their routines both alter significantly.

Harvey occasionally disappears for an entire night, with what Mike presumes is a gorgeous girl and to an expensive hotel room. He has a few dates himself, conveniently leaving out the names of a few; he’d never let onto Harvey that not all of his dates over the years had been of the female variety, and while he was sure he would have no issue whatsoever, it just didn’t feel right to come out to his boss in his condo while he’s staying on his couch.

Even so, even with Mike’s presence causing him to have to take dates elsewhere, Harvey doesn’t press him to find a new place.

One of the most unusual things that he learns about Harvey while staying there is that he’s artistic, and he’s _good_. He comes in after one particularly busy day looking at apartments to find the man leaned over a sketchbook, brush-tipped pen flicking gracefully across pencil lines and filling them in until there’s a black and white portrait left behind on the page. It’s only as Mike steps closer that he realises that Harvey has drawn someone familiar; Katrina’s face is pleasantly outlined, smoothly chiseled out of the white paper with the ink and almost alive on the page.

Contrary to what he expects, Harvey doesn’t hid the book when he realises that he’s there. ‘Anything good?’

‘Nope. One of them said it was a shared rental. They didn’t mention I’d have to share the bed too.’

Harvey snorts, going back to the page. ‘Better luck with the next one.’

‘You never told me you could draw.’

‘It’s pretty good therapy to draw, so I do it every once in a while to let off steam. I didn’t tell you because you don’t have an interest in art, apart from photography. ’

Harvey has a point, but Mike thinks of the panda picture lost in the fire and quickly turns to the fridge to get out a beer, gripping the bottle just a little bit tighter than necessary. ‘You got a spare book I can use to scribble in?’

Harvey stops, then tilts his head towards the shelf nearby. ‘Bottom drawer. There’s a square one at the bottom that should still be in the wrapping. Pens are in the drawer up.’

His drawings are nothing like Harvey’s. He screws up the first page with an errant splotch of ink, but chucks a few more onto it intentionally and it looks somewhat alright. All the while, he and Harvey chat about nothing and everything, laughing at the day’s failures and commiserating over Mike’s lack of new place to live over a couple of drinks and take-out.

It’s when he’s drawing squiggles on the second page that he finally asks. ‘Am I entirely disrupting your life by being on your couch?’

‘Not really. Just means when I get back in the evening, I have someone I can hurl insults at about their skinny ties.’ The words are spoken with a smirk on Harvey’s mouth, his hand never lifting from the page he’s working on.

Mike shakes his head. ‘Skinny TIE. Singular. All the others are ashes now.’

Harvey stops drawing, standing and grabbing something from the coffee table. He places it down in front of Mike without flourish.

Mike frowned at the box. ‘…You’re shitting me.’

‘Open it.’

‘Goddamn, I never thought I’d see the day when Harvey Reginald Specter voluntarily buys someone a skinny tie.’

Harvey’s eyes roll. ‘Don’t expect it to happen again. Rene was talking about the fit of one of your suits, and how it might suit it better to wear it with a skinny tie. Don’t eat anything with that on. It cost more than your phone did the year it came out.’

The new tie is silk, black with tightly-packed gunmetal hand-sewn stitching, winding its way upwards in a flawless herringbone pattern. He knows it costs more than Harvey is letting on, but he thanks him for it regardless and lets it go.

It kind of feels nice to be spoiled for once.

 

Harvey stops disappearing for the night.

He noticed the pattern quickly. Harvey usually went out on a Friday or a Saturday night, occasionally a Tuesday depending on whether work needed to be done the next day, and didn’t return until early the next morning to either get ready to go to the office or give off the air of smugness that he got laid last night.

Mike’s been on his couch for several weeks, and Harvey’s stopped disappearing for the night after just a few of them.

And when he thinks about it, he hasn’t had a date in a while either. His own last date was around the same time as Harvey’s, and that ended poorly when it turned out that he had wanted to use Mike’s place to hook up. When he’d mentioned he was staying on a friend’s couch after a fire, the guy had seemed put off and gone home, and he hasn’t heard back from him since.

The apartment search is at a standstill. Harvey had accompanied him on a few viewings, making sure to check things that he might forget if an apartment looked good at first glance. The only problem is that Harvey’s insistence on a great apartment rather than just an adequate one means that all of the ones he’d seen so far had all been unsuitable. Mike wonders whether he’d ever find one that was good enough to satisfy Harvey that he isn’t living in a shit-hole next to a crack-den.

Then there’s the small matter of the dream he’d had a few nights ago.

He chalked it up to the fact that they had let Bridget Jones’ Diary play along by itself as they had discussed a case, but whatever it was had triggered what had been one of the most intense make-out sessions he’d ever dreamed about, with Harvey chasing him down the street as snow fell around them, then cutting to him lifting him up against the glass walls of the condo, pressing him against the kitchen counter, rolling up to meet the grind of his hips on the very couch he had been dreaming on. He’d awoken with a start, head whipping around to check if Harvey was around, but the soft sound of breaths from the door Harvey hadn’t closed properly told him that he was probably safe.

Getting a crush on his friend was one thing. Getting one on the friend that was also his boss was an entirely different bag of cats, and he had no intention of letting them out of said bag anytime soon if he could help it.

So he’s still technically homeless, staying on Harvey’s couch, and having dreams about making out with the man. _Great_.

 

One Monday, he asks Harvey whether he’s free for an evening.

It’s not a date, although the repeat of that one dream that’s been haunting him does make his stomach flutter and triggers some kind of weird reflex that makes him swallow like he’s got something stuck in his throat all day after asking. He just wants to thank Harvey for letting him stay for so long, and he convinces himself that that’s the only reason he’s happy Harvey says yes.

And boy did he pick the wrong time to do it.

He didn’t celebrate Christmas the previous year in any kind of traditional sense; Harvey’s Jewish (although mostly not strict about it), so he had spent the holidays celebrating Hannukah with him. Without the advent of his usual holiday celebrations—and having foregone any New Years Eve celebrations because of the office lurgy making the rounds and confining him to the couch—Mike completely forgot in the whirlwind of work and apartment hunting that the date he’s chosen is February 14th.

Harvey raises an eyebrow when he asks. ‘Trying to wine and dine me?’

‘Just a thank-you for letting me stay for so long.’

‘You do realise that asking your boss out on Valentines Day could be seen as a little weird?’

‘…What?’

‘You said tomorrow. That’s Valentines Day.’

He squints at the numbers on his watch, and then they widen as his cheeks flush. ‘Oh god.’

‘I mean, I’m very flattered, and I do have to eat—‘

‘We can go another day if that’s less weird for you.’

Harvey’s smirk moulds itself into a small frown. ‘It’s a day, Mike. We can have dinner.’

So after work, he meets Harvey at the front doors, and they head out to the restaurant Mike has booked a table at.

BIG. MISTAKE.

He knows he’s fucked up something when he sees the state of the place. The restaurant has candles on every table, rose petals and other suitably red flowers filling vases and pots in every corner and crevice. Mike turns to Harvey, about to apologise, but the man is already stifling a snort of laughter behind his hand. He discreetly asks—to Harvey’s increasing amusement—for them to be seated in the least romantic area of the room.

It’s a good dinner; the menu clearly has a romantic theme going for it, but it’s not overtly cheesy and cringeworthy. Dinner is interrupted once by the distant shriek of a girl a few tables away as her girlfriend gets down on one knee. And then there was the woman whose date seemed to be going terribly, because she wanders over in Harvey’s direction when he goes to order something directly from the bar and tries to pick him up. The jealousy stings, but he pushes it down; besides Harvey being his boss, he’s straight, and probably as off-limits as they come. Harvey would end up with someone beautiful, powerful, with a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue as they quoted movies back and forth. Half-Donna, half-Mike, all supermodel material. _Perfect in every way_. Harvey would love that “Mad Max: Fury Road” reference.

When they get back from dinner—and Mike has recovered from the near heart-attack at the price for a meal there on Valentines Day—he checks work emails while Harvey goes back to sketching again. He’s been doing it more and more in recent days, even sitting on the terrace in the cold with a blanket wrapped around himself, filling page after page with sketches of the skyline, faces of people they know, black-and-white versions of some of the photos that are pinned to the fridge until the entire book was full.

This time there’s colours involved; a small palette of dry ink cakes sits out in front of him in little rectangles, flooding the page with splashes of yellow, orange, red like flames as he dips his brush into each of them in turn.

The sudden thought of Grammy’s destroyed panda picture makes him look away. It’s not like he would forget it easily—the perks of his brain—but it was the idea that never again would it hang in his home, the gaudiest but most striking thing in the room, made him miss his grandmother even more than he already did.

He must make a noise, or goes quiet for too long, because Harvey is suddenly at his side, nudging a scotch into his hands. ‘You whined. I thought you might be sobering up.’

‘Thanks. Just…thinking about Grammy. You remember the picture of the panda?’

‘The tacky thing on your shelf? Sure.’

‘It was one of the only things I kept when I cleared out her things.’

‘You lost it in the fire.’

Mike swallows, nodding as he takes another sip. ‘I lost a lot, including my Leica M5 that I bought with my second Pearson Hardman paycheck, but that picture was the one thing that really mattered. I can’t replace it.’

Harvey doesn’t say anything, just lets him sit there and mourn quietly. They sip their scotch wordlessly, the low audio of Marvin Gaye’s ‘Trouble Man’ filling the room for them from the record player as Harvey’s sketchbook dries between them. After a few minutes, a hand covers one of his. He accepts the contact, and tries to ignore the butterflies reminding him of what he couldn’t have.

 

Before Mike knows it, it’s already the end of March and hurtling into April at top speed.

He’s been living with Harvey months, and there’s still no signs of Harvey kicking him out. Even so, they finally manage to scout out and secure a rental agreement on an apartment not too far away; there’s about two blocks between their places at most, and between it is one of their favourite take-out places. It’s perfect.

There’s not much to move. He doesn’t have any furniture, and the apartment comes with everything that he’d need, so the only things he needs to take there is his clothes, the laptop and iPad he replaced, and a couple of books; the brand new copy of the BARBRI handbook Harvey had gifted with a grin him a few nights ago sits atop the paltry two boxes.

The moment the man’s stunned expression appeared at his parroting of the book’s pages verbatim plays back in his head, and he lets himself smile. His entire life, all of what remained of his world, is compacted down to just a few cardboard containers, and Harvey could still make him smile.

The dreams have developed into a real crush, and he’s stopped denying to himself that he has one. He has to stop the surge of jealousy every time Harvey flirts with someone in a bar. He looks away whenever the waitresses hand him a neatly-scrawled number on a napkin and Harvey pockets it with a smile and a smooth ‘Maybe we should get together sometime’. It hasn’t happened yet, but Mike expects that as soon as he’s out of the condo, the bedroom will see the faces and bodies of many pretty youthful women going through its doors.

Harvey’s given him a week off, even though he doesn’t move in for another few days and his stuff is already packed, so one day while he’s still at work, Mike slips out for a few hours to an art supply store. When Harvey had gone to bed the night before, he’d quickly checked the brand of sketchbook he likes using the most, and after an hour of searching had finally found a little place not too far away that sold that brand. He leaves the store with three of them—one with white paper, the other two toned sepia and grey respectively—and a set of mixed graphite and charcoal pencils in various hardnesses and colours, and hopes Harvey likes them.

When he gets back to the condo that evening, and dinner is ordered and on its way, Mike pours them two scotches and clinks their glasses together. ‘You’ll occasionally come to mine, right? Slum it for an evening in a little apartment?’

‘Well, I’m sure I’ll be able to deal with it for a few hours to come and see you. I mean, it doesn’t have the skyline view or anything, but at least you’re close to a bar that does good scotch.’

‘And a place other than the coffee cart that does a decent cappuccino.’

‘That’s an incentive too.’ Harvey clashes their glasses again, sipping before continuing. ‘You like the new handbook then?’

‘That and the skinny-tie were weirdly thoughtful gifts. You know Donna told me that you aren’t good at picking things, but those two were great.’

‘Donna occasionally gets things wrong. But don’t tell her I told you that.’

Mike imitates zipping his mouth shut, then reaches under the table for the gift bag. ‘Hopefully I didn’t get this one wrong. It’s just a little thank-you for letting me stay for so long.’

The reaction Harvey gives him is better than expected. He presumes he’ll get a smirk, a raise of the glass in his hands and maybe a pat on the shoulder if he’s lucky. But when Harvey flicks through the smooth pages and smiles softly, he still doesn’t expect him to stand from his seat and pull him fully into his embrace. ‘You didn’t have to.’

‘Well, you only had like, six pages in that sketchbook left. I thought you might want a refill before you ran out.’

Harvey pulled away again, but doesn’t fully let go. ‘Speaking of sketches…I do have something else for you.’

It’s a weird segue, and Mike simply raises an eyebrow when Harvey hands over a small package wrapped in blue paper. The size is familiar, but he has no idea why. He tears into the corner of it, and his eyes water the second the paper falls away.

He recognises the signature strokes of Harvey’s hand across the framed paper, the marks that can only have been made by his hand in pencil, pen, and ink. Harvey had only seen the image properly once, and yet he’d captured it so beautifully in a way that only he could have. Mike’s hand shakes as it slides down the glass, drifting over the panda Harvey had sketched out almost lovingly onto the page behind it, until he reaches a few elegantly painted words etched across the bottom and the tears begin to fall on their own.

_For Edith_.

He looks up into Harvey’s eyes, shaking his head. ‘Jesus, Harvey.’

‘You like it?’

He’s shaking all over, and all common sense flies out of the many windows that line the condo walls. Placing the picture down next to them, Mike throws all caution aside, grabs Harvey by the shoulders, and tugs him down to meet his mouth.

It hits Mike about two seconds after he does it exactly what he’s just done and who he’s done it with. The panic sets in, and he makes to pull away, but suddenly there’s a strong arm looped around his waist, holding them securely chest to chest. The kiss breaks for a moment, only for Harvey to sigh relievedly against his lips. ‘Oh fucking thank god, I thought it was just me.’

Mike’s laugh is a little hysterical, and he’s still crying, but the tears are all happy. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it was to hide my jealousy when you were flirting with those waitresses and bartenders?’

‘Yes, because I had to do it every time you flashed that smile of yours at someone. How could I compete with some hot young woman?’

‘You’re a hot older man. You’re definitely a competitor.’

‘Did I win this one?’

‘Fuck yes.’

‘Jesus…and I didn’t even have to give you the Leica M3 I got at an auction yet.’ That’s the last thing either of them say that night. In an instant, Mike catches fire. It’s the last night he ever spends on Harvey’s couch.

And only the first of many he spends in Harvey’s bed.

 

They try to be discreet about it for as long as possible.

Mike still moves out into the apartment they found. Although they’ve lived in the same space as each other for months, and neither of them have any doubt that Mike would move in permanently eventually, the relationship is still new, with so much that can go wrong, and both of them agree it’s better to be cautious than become cautionary.

It doesn’t stop Harvey staying over the first night, using the excuse that he had to see what the Panda Picture 2.0 looked like up—wonderful next to the expensive vintage camera he got Mike to replace the one he lost in the fire—and to help him settle in somehow.

Breaking in Mike’s new mattress is of course a welcome bonus for both of them.

By month three of their relationship, it’s clear as day that as soon as Mike’s one-year lease is up, he’s moving into the condo and never moving out again unless it’s with Harvey.

Surprisingly, it’s a long time before anyone finds out about them, but of all people, they’re not surprised it’s Donna.

They are surprised that it takes her so long, though.

She’s meant to drop something off at the condo, but heads to Mike’s when she finds it empty. Neither of them are sure how exactly Donna got a key, but she somehow picks her moments to find out things either very well or very badly, because the one she picks to walk in is just seconds after Mike has de-shirted himself and clambered into Harvey’s lap with a promise to make him see stars for the rest of the night.

It’s the first time either of them sees her genuinely stunned, and Mike adds it to the list of his proudest achievements when the first thing she does upon discovering them together is hit up his liquor stash, pour a double shot of vodka into a crystal glass, then stand in front of them with wide eyes and looking indignant. ‘In my time working for you, Harvey, I have walked in on Louis halfway through a BDSM session with an ex-girlfriend, seen Jessica giving a lap-dance to a statue at a New Years Eve party, and Harold Gunderson go home with a willing girl who looks like a younger Salma Hayek. I thought I had seen it all. But I did not see this coming. Congratufuckinglations.’

They’d share a high five about it later. Mike bites his lip with a smile and shrugs. ‘Surprise?’

She points at him. ‘So when Harvey couldn’t sit down without wincing last week?’

‘Yeah…that was me.’ His sheepish grin is met with an eye-roll from Harvey.

‘And the marks on Mike’s neck during the deposition?’

‘I may have gotten jealous of someone leering at him and staked claim to my territory,’ Harvey chimed in, having the decency to look a little embarrassed.

Mike frowns playfully. ‘I’m territory now?’

‘Well, I’ve conquered every inch of you, haven’t I?’

Donna waves her arms, spilling some of the vodka out of her glass. ‘STILL HERE.’

They snap back to looking at her, Mike biting his lip again, and Harvey grinning, all sheepishness gone. ‘Sorry.’

She knocks back the rest of the glass, pacing around the splash she’d let cascade to the wooden floor. ‘Okay, now I know that Marvey is a thing—’

‘Marvey?’

‘Mike—Harvey—Marvey. You need a couple name now.’

‘…Right.’

‘So now I know, it’s a thing, at what point in the future do I get to act as fabulous wedding planner?’

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
